


Bring Me To Life

by Pooks79



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pooks79/pseuds/Pooks79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a slightly dark one shot. It was inspired by two songs, “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence and “Breaking the Habit” by Linkin Park. Hope you enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me To Life

BPOV

I cowered in the corner of my closet shielding myself from the harsh reality of the world outside this confined space. I find refuge in this place because it is the one place I don’t feel judged. There is no one here who can point the finger at me, no one to call me names and no one to say it was my fault he wasn’t here anymore. 

I stay hidden amongst the various articles of clothing from a world that has shown no mercy towards me. I find comfort here. The faint smell of his musky cologne penetrates my senses and reminds me that he existed. It reminds me of how much I loved and missed him.

Although the smell is comforting, it sends sharp pains of hurt and despair deep into my heart as a reminder of my loss. It feels like my heart is breaking into a million pieces and I am rushing to catch each one as it falls. I take several deep breaths trying to regain the strength to breathe normally. The thoughts that parade my mind only hinder my efforts as my chest tightens once again at the thought of my once normal life. 

My life didn’t consist of rainbows and butterflies but I did have some resemblance of a normal life when he was here and now that he wasn’t, I had no life to speak of. Each day was the same as the last and inwardly I had hoped that each night when I fell asleep, God would see fit to take me away from the pain and reunite me with him.

I turn to the side and retrieve the box that holds my normal moments within it. My hand shakes in anticipation of viewing it contents. I know I will find my five minutes of happiness within this box but after that short-lived happiness, I succumb to its darker side once again. My intent never wavers although I know its contents have such power over my fickle mind. I rummage through countless photos and memories, reliving the moments of my childhood as if I were actually there. I focus on the smiles, his warm embrace and the love that flowed equally between us. I smile as I focus on that moment and in an instant, my smile weakens and the tears start to fall as I remember how I lost him. That moment forever embedded in my mind and after two years, still so fresh as if it had just happened. I relive these joyous moments only to remember the one horrid one that took him away from me.

I enjoy my hermit existence. There is no life or happiness within me to share with anyone on the outside so I stay locked up in this huge house numb to everything but my memories. I stay comforted in my closet for here I can silence the evil chants of times long past and live within my world of delusions and happiness. 

I know that mean bitch will come looking for me soon enough. I haven’t attended my meetings in a while. In all honesty I fucking hated sitting in a room with people who think they know me or assume they understand what I feel. I don’t want to complain to a bunch of strangers nor do I need someone to tell me how unhealthy my life is. I am well aware of how “unhealthy” my life is but I am ok with it. I am ok living a reserved life. 

I wish the bitch would just learn to butt the fuck out. I wish she would just stop trying to fix me. I don’t want to be fixed. Thoughts of this evil whore intoxicated my memories and wage war on my emotions. I kicked and screamed in my hole as if someone where trying to remove me from it. The images of her picking and probing my brain for answers to my current depression caused me to fill with anger as my arms and legs thrash about in an effort to silence them. The familiar scent emanating from his cloths soothes my aching heart and halts my assault. 

I pull his uniform shirt to my nose and take in his lasting scent. God did I miss him. I missed the good night kisses, the smell of burnt toast and even the Thursday night baseball parties. He was the number one guy in my life and now he was gone. The house was silent and cold, just like my life had become. He was taken from me before I had a chance to even say goodbye. His death so sudden and tragic, I almost hated him for it. 

I hated that as much as he had loved me he still chose to work in a profession where death was almost guaranteed. Why couldn’t he just sit behind a desk? Why couldn’t he choose to live rather than die by the gun? Was I not enough? These thoughts plagued me throughout his wake, funeral and there after. I fought my conflicted theories over why he chose this profession, why he died as a result of it and how I failed as a daughter to protect him from it. 

I didn’t need some uptight, scholarship sponsored, sex-deprived women to tell me what to do or how to act. I truly hated that bitch. In all honesty, if she truly lived in my shoes even for one day, that bitch would be in a straight jacket locked away in Bellevue for mental insanity. No one could play normal as good as I could and no one would ever know how depressed I truly was. I wore a mask of happiness when forced into the arms of society and concealed my pain deep within my clouded sense of reality. This was how it was after Charlie died and I felt safe in my world more than any other because in my world, he was still here.

I was like Charlie in the Chocolate Factory. My imagination helped me coupe with his loss much more than it should. I knew it was unhealthy to see my father and feel his presence when he no longer physically existed but it was the only thing that helped me through. When I woke in the morning I had programmed the toaster to literally burn the toast just so I could relive those moments when I picked on him for his lack of cooking skills. I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen and pick on my old man knowing full well his image was just a figment of my imagination. 

It was strange how his vision seemed so real and when I reached to touch him I could swear I felt the heat of his cheek on the palm of my hand. I felt his loving arms wrap around me and I felt my life complete. No one truly understands how much a girl needs her father and how she looks to him for so much in her life.

The sad reality of his death always outshined my moments of happiness as I turned from the kitchen sink and saw nothing there. The pain was so overwhelming it caused my knees to buckle and my body to fall against the ceramic coating of my kitchen cabinets. It didn’t matter that I left the sink running or the toaster too close to the sink that was now overflowing. I could care less if this house caught fire for in doing so maybe I would be able to see him, feel him again and that made burning that much more enticing. 

I cried into my knees caring little for the cold water that poured over my body or the jumping sparks that flew around my head. Smoke had filled the room as the toaster caught fire but it did little to move me from my position. 

However, as I looked up through my blurred vision, I saw a figure rush up snagging the towel from the table and smacking the flames that permeated from the toaster. I didn’t fear death as my life had become filled with it. I didn’t move as he swatted at the toaster a few times, removed the cord and pushed it into the water-filled sink extinguishing its burn.

I didn’t know this man and for a moment, I felt angry by his rescue. A normal person would have ran to him and thanked him for his actions but not me. I didn’t want to be saved. 

He knelt down in front of me staring at me as he tried to pull me away from the sink. My body resisted and that’s when it happened. This man’s face shifted from a rustic brown color to pale white. His features changed from firm and smooth to old and weathered. Here kneeling before me was my father. I gasped as his hands came towards my face and moved my wet hair to the side. Tears fell from my eyes as I lunged at him and cried into his shoulder.

I whispered I love you and I miss you as he held me firmly to his chest and caressed my back. Maybe I had died and I could finally be with him. Maybe all these years of crying and pleading for God to take me paid off. 

I felt my father pull me from his chest and that’s when my dream turned into a nightmare. When I glanced at his face it wasn’t my father but some man. A rather attractive man but still a stranger nonetheless. I gathered all my strength and pushed him.

“Get the fuck away from me! Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house? GET OUT!” I screamed.

I never got visitors except the occasional nosey neighbor asking if I was still alive so his arrival here was both strange and unnerving. 

“Calm down” he replied in a soft nonaggressive voice.

“I’m here to help you Bells”

How dare this man call me that? He doesn’t know me. Only my dad got to call me that. The anger rose from the depth of my soul and came screaming out of me like a fury’s siren.

“GET OUT!” 

I repeated my demands over and over, my face burning with anger over the audacity of this man to use a word only spoken by my father. 

“Bella I need you to calm down. I am here to help you damn it. Just calm the fuck down,” he said forcefully as he took me by my arms and forced me into the chair.

“Fuck” he exhaled as he ran his hands through his hair obviously annoyed and a little disheartened by my objection to his kind gesture.

I looked down towards the floor like the coward I was. “Can’t you just go? I don’t want you here. I don’t need you here. Please just leave,” I begged.

I just wanted to be left alone. Why couldn’t people understand that? Why was it so hard to believe that I wanted to live a life of solitude? There is nothing wrong with that.

He turned and knelt down in front of me. His eyes burned through my retinas as if he was mentally clawing through my skin and trying to reach my soul. He stared intently for a moment just trying to see whatever it was he was looking for. Maybe he thought I was still somewhat rational behind my suicidal skin or maybe he was looking for hope, which I knew he would never find. I was a lost cause, a lonely cactus in the desert, an hourglass with no sand. I had no purpose, no meaning, and no hope because it all resided in the one man that I loved most, my dad.

“Listen to me Bella. My name is Jake Black. Do you recognize me at all?” 

I took a moment and tried to recall the name. My mind was filled with so many thoughts and memories but for some reason, I couldn’t recall who he was.

“No. But I need you to leave Jake. Please. I don’t take kindly to visitors and as you can see, I have a mess to clean up” I said as I turned from him and tried to get up.

His hand sat firmly on my leg holding me in place as he continued to speak.

“It doesn’t matter if you remember me or not. Your father and mine were friends in high school and I guess I thought you might recall my face from when we met as kids a few times but that doesn’t really matter. What really matters is that I came here to help you. I work at the community center in town with Ms. Reynolds, your therapist. She told me a little about your case and she thought you might be more open to working with me since we sort of knew each other. I’m not trying to pry or force you into a therapy you obviously care little for but I want to try to help you move past this. It is obvious that your methods are not working and the more you stay here and simmer in it, the worse it will be. I want to earn your trust Bella. Let me help you”

Sincerity beamed through his pleading eyes and for some strange reason, I had this feeling like I should concede to his request. It felt almost like he was meant to be in my life somehow. I hadn’t met someone like him before and I sure as hell didn’t want to return to Ms. Reynolds group therapy session so maybe this was a nice median. 

I took a deep breath and pushed the fear deep down into my gut. I feared having people in my life. I didn’t want to get attached or feel attached to anyone that could possibly be taken from me. I had a hard enough time dealing with one loss, my mind and body couldn’t handle the loss of another. 

“Ok Jake but we play by my rules. No unexpected visits, no group therapy sessions and absolutely no mention of Char...of Char…well you know his name. If I feel like you are in any way trying to fuck with me or play mind games in an effort to “cure” me, then we are done. Understood?”

“I agree with your terms however you know that eventually you will have to talk about him. In order to move past this we have to address the cause which is whether you like to admit it or not, is your father.”

The smallest mention of his name made my heart race and my mind whirl with events and times we spent together. I wasn’t sure how Jake could help me through this, as I wasn’t sure I really wanted to forget. He didn’t understand that the life I lead was one of my choosing. I chose to live in the past because the past was all I knew. I didn’t know or want to live in a world without my dad in it and it was all too clear to me that in order to live, I had to make my dad my past. 

I conceded for the moment to agree to disagree in the hopes that after a while, Jake would see I was a lost cause. Many had tried to conquer Mount Bella but none had succeeded. I was sure I could break his resolve. The question was how long would he survive in my sea of darkness?

8 months later…

I hardly recognized myself as I stared at my nicely dressed, well nourished, blush filled appearance in the mirror. I would have never guessed I would be standing in front of a full-length mirror admiring how good I looked nevertheless how good I felt. I found myself giggling like a five year old who just did something naughty. Here stood Bella Swan, a woman scared by the passing of her father, loathed for her self hatred and reborn into a life she actually felt was worth living. 

It was hard to believe just eight months ago I sat in this very room afraid of the world and all its inhabitants. I was afraid of experiencing anything new because I feared that in doing so the memories of my father would be forgotten. I stopped living life because my life felt empty without him. 

I smiled to myself as thoughts of Jake’s floated my mind. He was a stranger to me and in just eight months, he had showed and taught me so much. He helped me move past my fears and anger and by doing so, it allowed my heart to heal in a way I never thought possible. 

The road leading to this miracle was a rough one. Jake stood by me during my childish rants and outlandish behavior. He stayed with me countless nights as I sweat through my dreams like a drug addict in detox. He held me when all I did was cry as we boxed up all my father’s things and brought them to Goodwill. These small memories of my road to recovery are by no means forgotten and burn no less than the pain I endured over the loss of my father, but I know now they were all necessary to bring me back to life. I realize now that living in the past deters me from making a future and I know that would be something my father would have wanted for me. He wouldn’t have wanted me to wallow in his death but find peace with it. This is not to say I am 100% cured of the pain but I am learning to handle it much better. 

Today would be a true testament to my rebirth from darkness to light. Today I would visit my father. I can’t say I’m not scared to death over this closure but I hope it will allow me to finally put my past where it belongs and allow me to move forward. 

I skip down the stairs grabbing my coat and purse in tow. I step out the front door and was welcomed by the cool winter air and the glowing smile of my savior. I have to admit that along this journey I have grown a deep desire and love for Jake. Some might call it Erotomania, where the patient falls in love with the caregiver but I don’t see it that way. The love I feel for Jake surpasses all human comprehension of love. My love for him runs deeper than the pain for my father. It was through his compassion that I found myself. He brought my soul back from a world of depression and hate into a world of love and understanding. He breathed life into my lifeless world; he melted the ice around my heart and taught me to love again.

We had grown to feel things and understand one another on a completely different level. Sure it was his job to look after me and make sure I fully understood that the life path I’d chosen was unhealthy but I could sense a genuine sincerity in every step we took together. He slept with me when I was too scared to be alone. He cooked, cleaned and dressed me when I lacked the energy or drive to do so on my own and he always held me when I was at my weakest. Maybe it was unfair to assume he had grown to love me the way I loved him but it seemed all too clear to me that in accepting one loss I gained a new reason and Jake was that reason.

I felt my heart beat just a little faster and my body tingle at his touch. I found that many nights were filled with laughter with a tinge of pain but the pain got less and less as time moved on. He had showed me so many reasons to live and why my life was worth living that to not have him a part of that life had become inconceivable to me. Today I closed the bad part of my life in the hopes that it would open the door to a new one with him. I could be naïve in my belief of his love for me but I hope my success would not be in vane.

I ran into Jake’s arms and filled myself with the warmth of his caring embrace. I could feel his smile on my shoulder as he held me tight within his firm arms. 

“Are you ready?” he whispered

I pulled away and returned the smile. “Yes I think I am.”

He held my hand as we walked to his car. We took the short drive over to the cemetery and within a few minutes, I was standing in front of my father’s grave with Jake’s soft hand on my back for support.

It took everything within me not to regress back to the state I was in eight months prior. I cried, screamed and yelled at my father’s grave as if it were him standing right in front of me instead of a cold grave. I told him how angry, hurt and sad I was that he chose his work over me. I could barely get any of the words out through my loud sobs and crumbling tremors of hurt and pain. I had come too far and achieved so much to improve my mental state and in that moment, I felt like I had eight months prior, a shell of my former self.

Jake held me as I continued to voice out everything I felt. I hated what my father’s death had done to me. I felt like his passing was the cause of my torment and all I wanted to do was hit something. I want to make someone else feel the pain in order to relieve my own disappointment in him and in myself. I wished if only for a moment he would be standing there to feel the hurt I felt and taste the bitterness of my venom. I wanted him to know that although his actions were righteous, the outcome was catastrophic. 

I sat there for hours just letting all the demons out from the darkest corners of my heart. I had no idea how much I really needed to expunge these emotions until now. 

After a while, the tremors of hate subsided and my chest lightened with each renewed breath I took. My lungs replenished and filled my body with a sense of calmness. This was what it felt like to be free. I had finally understood what it meant to be at peace. I left a single rose for my father as a lasting gift of my love and forgiveness. 

Jake dropped me home that night and as I entered the house, it didn’t seem to hold such a cloud of darkness for me anymore. I smiled to myself at the thought that tomorrow would be a new day in the life of Bella Swan. I would no longer allow my depression and feeling of loss take over my life. I would start a new life, one with love and aspirations and that warmed my heart.

When I woke up the next morning I thought it would be a great idea to surprise Jake with some morning coffee and muffins. I had always been a great baker and thought now would be a great time to enjoy the loves I once had. 

Once the muffins were done, I called a cab and headed over to Jake’s house. I had only been there once before when Jake needed to pick up some extra cloths. I couldn’t help but smile, as I was about to take a big step in my life. Today I would show Jake just how thankful I was for his support and help in making me the person I was today.

As I approached his door, I noticed a women leaving from within. My chest tightened and my heart raced as I watched her kiss Jake on the cheek before turning to leave. The glimmer in his eyes and the look of love in his face told me everything. I dropped the basket of muffins to the floor as I tried to silence the whimpers that came out from my mouth. I tried to fight the tears as they streamed down my eyes at the thought that the love we had shared was just a figment of my imagination. 

I forced my body to turn and walk away. I couldn’t stand to see him with someone else. The pain was too great and I felt my mind slipping back into its numbing state. My mind was building that impenetrable wall around my heart with each step I took. Jake had taught me to open my heart and let the light in and now I can see why I was so fearful to do so. The pain was excruciating and it made it hard to breath. I could hear Jake calling to me as I walked away but his words fell on deaf ears. I didn’t want to hear I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hear that the love that burned so deeply within my heart was all in vane. I wanted to believe I was more than just some troubled person who needed a shoulder to cry on. I thought I meant more than that. 

I started to question if everything I had thought about myself and had learned to believe was all false. I started to think that I was no longer cured from my addictions of my past. Maybe the wound didn’t heal after all. Maybe I was brainwashing myself to believe that I deserved a better life when I didn’t. Maybe I replaced my addiction to depression with my growing love for Jake. Maybe I misunderstood his compassion for love. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just be normal?

I laughed at the notion of normalcy. I was never normal even prior to my father’s passing. I had always had a hard time dealing with anything I couldn’t put my finger on. I wasn’t a chance taker or an optimist. I dealt in reality and here I was, faced with the reality of my delusions and I felt weaker than ever. My father told me never to put all my eggs in one basket and here I was, basket full and completely burdened by the truth.

I had been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized I was standing in front of my house. I looked up at the house that used to be filled with joy which was now overshadowed by sadness. All that I had learned seemed insignificant. I used to laugh when people said that a true survivor of addiction never relapses. Well if that was true than I was never a survivor at all. I had come to realize that I successfully removed one addiction and replaced it with another. In finding myself I had learned to remove my addiction to my past and replace it with the love I felt for Jake. Now with both addictions eradicated, I felt like the shell I once was. I was alone. Maybe this was the way it was meant to be. 

I entered the house, threw my coat and purse on the living room couch and walked up to my bedroom. I stood there looking at the place I once called home for two years and found myself finding comfort in the notion. I instinctually gravitated towards the closet knowing it would provide that same comfort it always had. 

Just as I took the first step into the closet the sound of his voice from behind me halted my movements.

“Don’t hide from me Bella” he whispered as he moved from outside the doorway stopping right between me and the closet.

I could never hide my feelings from him. He had seen the best and worst of me and now I feared I had lost myself all over again. 

“I can’t Jake,” I whispered forcing my face away from him. 

I couldn’t stare into his eyes and see pity. I didn’t want his pity. What I wanted I knew I couldn’t have.

“Bella please” he pleaded.

My heart hurt as my mind took in the recognition of his desperation. 

“Jake I wish I could look at you but every time I do, I feel what I had feared from the beginning, loss. I can’t go through this again Jake. I feel myself slipping into the pit of despair all over again except this time I’m without my Jake life preserver. I know its wrong to feel like this but I can’t help but find comfort in my despair. It’s what I know. What I’ve grown to learn as being safe.”

“Bella haven’t you learned anything from our sessions. Haven’t I shown you how destructive your despair can be? In helping you move forward and learn to enjoy life, I’ve seen you turn into the woman I had hoped you would be. I find myself in love with this woman. A woman filled with hope, love and a true sense of self. That is the Bella I know and that is the Bella I want to spend every waking moment getting to know. The woman you saw earlier was my sister Rachel so you see, there is no need to worry about your life preserver, I am right here as I always will be”

I felt my heart skip at the words he spoke. My mind screamed to keep my guard up while my heart sang a different tune. I wanted to be the women he saw. I wanted to stay in his light for as long as he would have me. “Jake I…”

He wouldn’t allow me a moment to speak as his lips crashed onto mine with such force we fell onto the bed behind us. My mind went blank and my heart took over. I allowed myself to feel something I had never felt before, passion.

I allowed Jake to take me completely that night and every night after. I allowed him to be the candle that continued to shine bright in my journey from darkness to light. For he was the only one to bring me back to life.


End file.
